


Let Me Under Your Skin

by superagentwolf



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Best Bud Robert Small, Bottom Craig, First Time, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Second Person, Unnamed Dadsona (Dream Daddy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/superagentwolf
Summary: Craig Cahn is a power bottom. Spread the word.*There hasn't been much of a relationship since the camping trip. It figures that the gym would be what finally brought you both together. One minor injury later, you're trying to help Craig 'relax'. With sex. It just takes a lot of stumbling (mostly on your part) to get here- but thank God you did.





	Let Me Under Your Skin

Craig is taking care of himself and you’re so fucking proud.

It’s been slow work but everything good comes in time, or whatever those cat posters usually say. You think they’re stupid and ironic and also a little bit charming. You think that about a lot of things.

“You okay, bro?”

“Yeah-fine,” you say quickly, only thirty-five percent out of breath, as opposed to the one-thousand percent from the first time you tried using a treadmill.

Okay. Maybe forty-five percent. But it’s progress.

“You’ve been kind a quiet today,” Craig continues. Not pushy- he’s extremely patient, which you cry over a lot. Not literally, of course. It’s just that you know how bad your endurance is and how out of shape you are and Craig is always so damn _supportive_.

“It’s nothing. Really. Just had a headache this morning- I can already feel it going away.”

Craig frowns, looking a little worried. _Oh no he’s cute._ You’re feeling flushed for an entirely different reason now.

It’s not like you’re really a _thing_. I mean, making out sleepily in a tent in the woods isn’t exactly grounds for a relationship. To be honest, you haven’t spent much time together outside of regular workout sessions and helping Craig look after the girls every now and then so that he gets breaks. Rest. Which, again, you’re stupidly proud of him for doing.

Thing or not, though, you can’t really help your natural reaction. Craig is just…so _good._ He’s healthy and perpetually focused on his kids. He has a freaking business and he still manages to make you feel completely comfortable around him despite the fact that you both know this is new territory for him. You can’t help it if you blush too much or stare at his really nice abs or his pretty eyes or the way his butt looks while he’s running-

_Whoops._

All of your misplaced attention gets you another near-fatal accident on the treadmill. You’re suddenly immensely glad Craig showed you the little red emergency stop on the device after the first time, pretending it wasn’t because he’d thought you would trip again. You manage to stop the flat hamster wheel of death before you can damage yourself too badly but you still barely catch yourself, arms spread wide and tense as you grip the sides of the treadmill. You still tip forward too far on the machine, legs spread and balance fucked as you smack your head on the electronic screen. It beeps angrily at you and you add another tally to your shit list for the computer overlord uprising.

“Bro, you okay?!”

“Totally,” you manage drily, glaring at the treadmill as if it has committed a felony. For all you know, it has. Damn technology and its malicious nature.

“Oh- shit, bro, cm’ere,” Craig says quickly, stopping his workout.

Stopping. His. Workout.

You’re not sure what you did to deserve his full attention and you’re about to wish you could do it again until you feel the pain. It blossoms at your nose like a particularly evil flower. _Oh._

“Here, tilt your head down or you’ll swallow it,” Craig says, worry written across his face, and now you feel kind of bad for making him worry. But. You’re also bleeding and your nose hurts.

“I’m not afraid of swallowing,” you giggle instead, feeling a little dizzy from the sudden pain but also trying to comfort him.

Craig pauses in his attempts to grab a clean towel, confusion and a miasma of other emotions swirling over his face. His mouth is open a little and there’s a sudden, explosive dusting of red across his cheeks and neck. It’s…

Well, it’s kind of cute. And hot. And not doing wonders for the potential of getting an adrenaline boner.

“Uh- are you- how hard did you hit your head, bro?”

You resist the urge to make another joke at that one. The urge is powerful. Your Dad Joke Box is practically exploding with pressure.

_Okay. Stop thinking about exploding. And pressure. And Craig’s blush. And Craig._

“I’m fine,” you repeat, accepting his towel, sopping away warm blood. It doesn’t seem like too much, thankfully. Craig still frowns, pulling you towards a nearby bench, squatting at eye level.

You clear your throat quietly, trying to focus on staying steady. The last thing you want is a tent forming in front of Craig’s face.

Well, technically it’s the first thing you want, but.

“Let me see,” he says gently, tilting his head. You are extremely tempted to kiss him. So very-

You kiss him.

It’s only after the fact that you realize there’s probably blood on your upper lip. And you’re in a public place.

Somehow, though, Craig doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses back gently, mouth warm against yours, and you can taste the salt of his sweat. It’s blissfully wonderful, until he starts to tilt his head and your nose bumps his. You jerk reflexively, a small hiss of pain escaping your lips, and open your eyes to see Craig looking pleasantly buzzed but incredibly regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, hands guiding your head back towards him, and you almost close your eyes for another kiss. Except Craig is being a responsible adult and checking your nose with careful fingers, probing. “I think it’s just bruised, bro. Not broken, thankfully.”

“Sorry,” you say, both apologizing for the injury and the random kiss. You’re pretty sure that’s not ‘taking it slow’ or letting Craig relax.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re hurt,” Craig says. He sounds so sincere that you want to kiss him again. And…other things.

_This is never going to end,_ you think, feeling the post-workout buzz going straight to your dick. It doesn’t help that you can still taste Craig’s sweat on your tongue. It’s somehow perfect, you think. You glance down at your feet for a second, trying to think of how to proceed, and then you catch the way Craig’s shorts are pulled tight against his thighs. The way his shirt is riding up at the edge, the tiny angle of his hip exposed. The bulge just there before you…

You reach out unthinkingly to brush your thumb against his hip, wanting to feel, and you’re greeted with a whimper that sticks in Craig’s throat. He’s almost on fire, ears red as he ducks his head. A hand rises to his mouth to push back the sound and you almost completely lose all of your composure right then and there.

“I’m…I don’t want to rush you,” you say, drawing your hand back, and then Craig catches your wrist.

You both stare at his hand and he’s apparently as surprised as you are by the action. He almost lets go for a second, fingers loosening, but he seems transfixed by the feeling of the tendons and bone beneath the surface. You can feel your pulse pounding harder and it’s all you can do to hold back from tackling him.

“Um- you’re not…it’s not…rushing, bro. I mean- it’s fine. You’re…fine.”

“Really?” you murmur, a smile flickering on your mouth because you know it’s not what he meant but you think he could say it if prompted. “You think I’m fine?”

“…yes,” he finally pushes out, the confession strangled, and now _you’re_ the one blushing like a tomato. “God, bro, since that night-,”

“We need to go,” you choke out quickly, rising to grab your gear. You even pick up Craig’s heavy backpack, barely aware of him fluttering around you, trying to intervene.

“What-,”

“If we don’t go,” you grind out, “I’m going to make a scene by trying to make out with you.”

Craig blinks, still blushing, and mutters a quiet _oh_ before following you out. You avoid his gaze for the first minute as you drive, trying to calm down. It takes a little bit of time for you to come up with what you want to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t want to push you into anything. I just…I’ve been, um. Having trouble.”

“With what, bro?” He’s the picture of concern. One of his hands wavers as if he wants to touch you and the lump in your throat grows.

“I just…I really, really like having you around. Being friends again. Being able to see you every day and helping you out with the kids, just doing dumb stuff like we used to but more…adult. Camping.”

“Me, too,” Craig says, earnest, and you can’t stop wanting to kiss him. You could pull over right now and jump in his lap. “I know, bro, it’s been so good being around you-,”

“Yes, and I- I just…I keep wanting _more_ ,” you say, the words killing you. “I know it’s selfish and I don’t want to make it seem like I’m just in this for some ulterior motive; I’m not. I _do_ want to be your friend. I just- I want more, too. And I need you to know that so I can back off if you want me to.”

Craig is quiet for a moment, taking it in. His eyes are wide.

_This is where it happens,_ you think, regret flooding your veins almost as quickly as the adrenaline from before. This is where he backs away, apologizing like the relentless good guy he is. This is where he quietly lets you down, asking for time apart or letting you know he’s making amends with Sma- Ashley. That all of his relaxing has made him remember what he loves in life. That-

“…okay,” he says.

“…okay?”

You want to look at him but you’re a safe man and you’re still a couple of yards away from your driveway. You don’t want to die- or kill Craig- thirty feet from your front door. Not before you know what he means.

“I…I’ve been scared, I think. Of, um- commitment. Not because I can’t-,”

“No, I know that,” you say quickly, casting a glance at him, relieved that he doesn’t look anxious or uncomfortable. “You have three kids, Craig, Jesus- three _very_ well-adjusted and wonderful children who are going to have the best lives ever because of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve just been…afraid. I mean, I have the three of them and work and I don’t want to…risk a relationship just to ruin it because I pay attention to other things too much. Because I don’t give you attention. I don’t want to take you for granted. You deserve more than that.”

You practically jerk to a halt in your driveway, heart pounding. _That was it? That’s what he was worried about?_ Craig is silent, staring at his hands nervously, and you throw the parking brake up before jumping into his lap. He makes a surprised noise, half groan and half cry, and you immediately swallow it up.

Your nose is still sore but not as sensitive anymore. You barely notice it as you sit there, Craig’s muscle solid and hard against your legs, his hands big against your arms. They feel perfect there, bigger than yours by just the right amount. You cautiously press your tongue against his lips, pleased when he opens his mouth with a tiny moan.

You’re already seeing stars. His mouth is stupidly sweet, which might be because his breakfast blend had strawberry in it, but you honestly couldn’t care less. Your shorts are too tight against your body and Craig’s hands are inching up your legs. You just want him to grab you already and you angle your head more, trying to press on a spot just at the roof of his mouth. When you hit it, he melts underneath you, nails digging into your skin.

It takes a while for you to gain the presence of mind to back away, fully aware that you’re technically in view of the entire neighborhood. It’s worth it when you see Craig’s expression- he looks like you remember him from college after a stint of drinking, lamenting his horny-ness and lack of partner for the night. He’s flushed and dazed, bliss making his features slack. It almost makes you want to continue right where you left off, but you remember you have to answer him. His insecurities.

“Craig…I’m not a kid.”

“Um…y-yeah,” he agrees, confused. It makes you warm and fuzzy to think he forgot what you were talking about but now you have to backtrack a little bit.

“I’m not a plant, either. I’m not going to wither up and die just because you’re not paying attention to me every second of the day. I know you’re busy. I know that. But you need something for yourself. If you want it, you should have it. Don’t think about failing me. I’m an adult. If I’m feeling neglected, I’ll tell you. But I don’t think I ever could, especially since you spend so much time _caring_.”

Craig blinks and- _oh shit, are those tears?!_ You panic.

“Wait- oh, God- I’m sorry, I-,” you’re ready to jump out of his lap and out the window to end your pathetic existence but Craig pulls you flush against him, which is both relieving and arousing. Weirdly so.

“Thank you, bro,” he mutters against your shoulder, sniffling, and you feel your heart pound. It’s set to explode.

_NOT helping._

“For what?”

“For caring about me,” he says.

You know, at that very second, that you’re a goner. Craig could put you through murder sprints and you’d deal with it, just for the chance to be near him one last time before dying.

“I _love_ you,” you say, unable _not_ to say it, realizing that it’s probably a bit fast. You can’t hold it back, though. It’s just a fact of your life now.

Craig moves away from your shoulder and then his cheek brushes your neck and you shiver. The motion makes you rock against his legs and he groans, hands tightening on your thighs, which should not feel as good as it does.

“Um- bro, I-,”

“Inside,” you say quickly, reaching blindly for the door and hoping you don’t fall out when it opens.

You somehow make it inside your house without dropping your keys and you barely have a chance to turn around before Craig grabs you by the ass and shoves you against a wall.

_Oh no that’s hot, why is it so hot, oh my God-_

His hands are somehow perfect for your body, which is stupid and cheesy and you love it. He’s also strong, which explains how you’re suspended in the air, legs wrapped around him as he pushes up against you. You’re both moaning like teenagers into each other’s mouths and then Craig- in a very adult move- grinds up against you. You throw your head back instinctively, gasping, and then promptly hit it on the wall.

“Oh my God,” Craig says, sounding both out of breath and despairing, “Why do I keep hurting you today-,”

“Not your fault,” you say breathlessly, waving a hand as he lowers you. You’re a little sad at the change. “Seriously. You know I’m a mess.”

“Bro, how can you still want to do this when you hit your nose _and_ your head?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we made out in that stupid tent in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” you repeat, grabbing his hand to drag him backwards up the stairs. Maybe you’re a little grumpy at this point that you’ve been messing this up so much but that’s neither here nor there. All you want is to get your stupid gym clothes off as quickly as possible.

Craig gets the message, already yanking your shirt away before tugging at his own. You’re glad the house is empty for the first time, knowing you’re leaving a hilariously cliché trail of clothes into your bedroom. By the time you both get through your door, you’re stumbling and naked, every touch electric.

When you get to the bed, Craig hesitates. You’re not sure why, so you do the only thing you know is right.

“You okay?”

“Yeah- yeah, I just…wanna do this right,” he says, flushing, and you could watch him blush _all day_. He glances at the bed, clearly unsure, and then it clicks.

He’s not sure what to do.

“Good. Lie back, then,” you smile, as if this is all part of the plan. You immediately know what you have to do and you’re not angry about it. In fact, it’s probably perfect. “Time for me to help you relax.”

Craig inches onto your bed, half curious and half nervous, so you take the time to kiss him before doing anything else. It’s slower than before, more careful, and you decide there’s no way to choose which you like best. When you move away, he follows you up for a second and your heart skips a beat.

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point,” you tell him, waiting for him to answer before you continue.

“Okay,” he whispers, and his eyes are so wide and trusting that you want to die. There’s no way you deserve this, you think. No way _anyone_ could possible deserve him.

You reach into the nightstand, fingers finding the bottle at the back of the drawer. You wait a moment while it warms up in your fingers, taking the time to taste Craig’s skin. He lets out a small sigh, breathless as you suck at him. _Wow. His abs taste as good as they look,_ you think, almost forgetting your hand is sticky and preoccupied. Almost.

When you circle him with a finger carefully, he squirms. He’s breathing heavily- more heavily than any time you’ve worked out together, and that makes you more triumphant than you thought you could ever possibly be. You’re already feeling yourself pulse a little at the sight of Craig spread out on your sheets, finally completely open for the first time since you met again.

You push a finger in carefully, enjoying his moan and the way his back arches from the bed a little. He’s talking at this point now, which is no surprise because you used to be roommates and you know exactly what he’s like.

“Oh- that’s good, more- please, d-,”

_No need to ask twice._ This either isn’t his first rodeo or he’s just incredibly turned on. You’re not sure which and it doesn’t really matter to you; all that matters is that he’s comfortable and when you quickly slip another finger in, he’s ready to relax around you. Your fingers curl inside of him and he cries out while you taste the side of his leg, twitching in anticipation. All you want is to be inside him but you know better than to make this rough. That’s not what he needs, especially since he’s been so torn about taking the next step.

“Good,” you say, trying to reach him even as his hands twist in the sheets, “That’s it, relax…”

“What- what about you?” Craig asks, the sentence barely strung together with breathless sounds.

_God. He needs to stop making my heart warm,_ you think. It’s unfair. Even now, he’s still thinking of you. It makes you so happy and frustrated all at once. This is about him, you think, and you need him to understand that.

“I need to make you happy,” you breathe, a third finger pushing, and one of his hands scrapes against your shoulder. His head is tilted back and you can see his neck there, inviting but just too far to reach. “That’s all I want. I want you to have what you want.”

“…what…what I want?” he blinks, eyes teary, apparently trying to gather his thoughts. _Damn. Was it that good?_ You dial back on your movement, almost stopping to give him time.

“Yeah. Tell me what you want,” you smile, leaning your cheek against his leg.

“I need…bro, I wanna…I wanna ride it,” Craig whispers, blinking past the tears at the corners of his eyes.

You swallow, brain short-circuiting. Now it’s your turn to flounder for words.

“I- um…are you sure? You don’t have to-,”

“Please,” he pleads, practically trying to hide his red face in the sheets. “Let me. Please let me.”

“Okay.”

The moment you say it he flips you over, biting at your mouth, and it’s like he’s let go even more than you imagined. He’s suddenly grinding against you and it stops all your thoughts, the warmth of your bodies sliding along each other making you hotter than you were before. Your hands fly to his hips, curling tightly, and you’re amazed all over again at the flat planes you find. You half can’t believe that _Craig_ is naked above you, acting like all he wants in the world is you and your body.

His hand circles around your cock and you hiss, arching into his grip. You realize what’s coming next and try to warn him, one hand leaving his body to flail blindly into the distance.

“You- I have…condoms. I should-,”

“No,” Craig breathes, already settling on his knees, and _fuck_ does he look ready. “I want you in me. Just you.”

You can’t really argue with that.

The moment he slides down onto you the world goes black. It’s the closest thing to an orgasm you’ve ever felt without actually being an orgasm. _If it fucking feels better than that, I’m gonna die,_ you think, blindly running your hands over his legs. He barely settles on you before he lowers himself completely, moaning unashamedly as he tilts his head back.

“Fuck- you like that, don’t you,” you say, heart pounding a million times a minute. “Don’t you? You like how that feels-,”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he babbles, already pulling his hips back again, everything sliding easily, “I love it- love how you feel inside me-,”

Maybe you both shut up after that but you probably don’t. All you know is that Craig’s stomach looks perfect and your hand pushes against it as he rides you, pace quickening faster than is probably good for so little preparation. He doesn’t seem to care, though. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are red, every stupidly toned muscle in his body helping him push and pull against you at a maddening pace.

You want a picture of him like this, bouncing against you. Fuck, you want a _video_ , so you can hear his moaning and the sound of his ass slapping against you. You’re pretty sure the bed is shaking a lot, which makes you want to laugh at the thought of it crashing through the floor and onto the first floor. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t stop riding you if it happened.

“Good- you’re so good,” you say, feeling an edge enter your mind, the sharpness of impending pleasure reminding you that neither of you can last much longer. “Come on, babe, open your ass up more, wanna feel you deep inside-,”

Craig is past words. You think it’s all he can do to respond to your request, hands reaching behind his body to pull at his ass, driving further down than before. He almost screams and you know, with sudden and sharp clarity, just what you’re hitting. The next time he pulls himself up, you reach out, ready. Just when he slams down hits his prostrate, you _pull_ , one hand tight around his swollen dick. His entire body shakes and he pushes onto you faster than before, some inhuman strength driving him to move even though he’s been doing most of the heavy lifting.

_Shit. That makes sense,_ you think, cataloging the thought for later. Of fucking course Craig would want to ride like this. It’s a goddamn murder sprint for him. You want to laugh but he’s too tight around you, his dick too hard in your hand, and then you just _look at him_ -

You look at him, his strong body red and sweaty and shaking, his head thrown back and the column of his neck illuminated by sunlight filtering through the blinds. The way his arms are straining, reaching behind him, his thighs tight with bruising force around your waist. It just takes one look and then you orgasm, pushing up into him with sudden power, somehow managing to push off the bed even with god knows how many pounds of muscle situated just at your crotch. Craig is only able to move one more time, hips stuttering as he finishes all over your hand, pulsing with shocking force.

You both stay there for a moment, breathless and woozy from the orgasmic high, and then Craig weakly pulls off of you and slumps onto the bed, panting. You miss his warmth immediately and inch closer, letting his breath hit your face.

“ _Shit,_ ” he breathes, blinking as if he’s trying to focus his eyes. He sounds drunk.

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling. He’s staring at you with soft eyes, something vulnerable and open in his gaze. He looks the tiniest bit worried, though- as if he’s done too much.

You know you should both clean up, but you want to do something to reassure him. You glance at your sticky hand and blink, curious. _I wonder…_ Part of you wants to save the experience for another time but the other part doesn’t care much. You lift your hand up to your mouth and suck a finger clean, trying to find every taste- something sharp, salt, and a headiness that’s entirely _Craig_.

Craig makes a small noise and you blink, blushing with what you know is an unattractive and all-encompassing red. He watches you and you retract your hand, clearing your throat nervously, and then his hand yanks you closer and you’re kissing.

You’re not sure how to feel about his sudden enthusiasm- _no, wait, that’s a lie._ It’s fucking great. You decide you’re going to make a point of making a list of all the things that make him react this way. Maybe one day, you’ll hit all the right spots and make him _really_ come apart at the seams.

“…you good?” you finally ask, backing away a little so that you can both breathe. You’re honestly both on the verge of heart attack territory, at this point.

“Yeah. Better than good, bro,” he says, smiling.

“Jeez- you gotta stop looking at me like that, bro, people will start talking,” you joke, heart pounding faster.

“I love you.”

_Oh. Oh…_

Well, looks like it’s your turn to cry like a baby. Craig seems surprised- not worried, thankfully, but you rub at your eyes with your clean hand and shake your head as much as the mattress will allow.

“You can’t just _say_ that, bro- all serious and…shit.”

“Well, you beat me to it,” he reminds you, smiling, and then he prods at your forehead. You almost snort. It’s like you’re roommates again, but…better.

“Okay. I barely have any strength in my body…but I _do_ know we need to get cleaned up. _And_ my sheets will need washing. They’ve got workout _and_ sex sweat on ‘em now.”

“Good,” Craig murmurs, rolling over you to kiss you one last time. Now it’s your turn to follow his mouth upwards, like it’s the sun and you’re a clingy plant. “Come on. Shower time, bro.”

“Yes, bro,” you say with mock tiredness, peeling yourself off the bed. You may or may not walk behind him just to watch his ass.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says as he opens the door. You don’t stick your tongue out at his back.

(You do.)

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

* * *

You shoot a message to Robert the next morning because he’s your best bud and you managed to snap a pic of Craig’s butt- admittedly, after he was dressed. At least his sweatpants were tight.

You send it the picture off to Robert with a caption:

_Spread the word. Craig is a power bottom._

You try to hide your smile the entire time Craig is trying to make lunch in your kitchen, reminding you that _oregano is not a salad, bro, you gotta get some greens in this fridge._ The second your messenger pings you’re on that shit, opening it to see the response.

_craigs ass is a cryptid_

You spend the next half hour laughing, even after Craig comes over to inspect and pouts at you sending pictures of his butt to Robert. You end up having to kiss your way through an apology, promising to get him salad for dinner.

You don’t finish your salads. Craig makes a joke about dressing and you lose it and push into him from behind- after the appropriate foreplay, of course. Most of which takes place while you’re both trading dumb jokes about butts and cryptids, like _Lake Lochn-ass_.

When you go to bed that night, Craig reminds you he’s picking up the kids in the morning and you promise to go with him.

“You sure, bro? It’ll be early-,”

“’Course I’m sure. I miss them.”

He smiles a little, warm and soft, pulling you closer to his chest. The blankets are fresh and smell like lavender.

“Love you,” he murmurs, kissing a hickey on your neck that will probably be near-impossible to hide from the kids. And Smashley.

“Love you, too,” you smile.

You’ve never been happier about going to the gym in your entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha wow. I bought DDADDS because I needed to see it for myself and I'd been kinda down. Hoo boy was that a good choice. I'm a huge damn fan of both Robert and Craig, so. Hopefully you enjoy? Anyway, if this is anywhere near your cup- or pot- or even box of tea, maybe request something and I'll try it? I do commission fics, too, if ya wanna help a poor gal out. Anyway, hope ya like it.


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